Deadrise 2: Deadwar by Steven R. Gardner

truck. Even though it was nearly half a mile behind them, Smitty could make out the general shape and style of the bike…it was Augie’s bike.
“We got trouble Chico.” Smitty called to his partner.
“Talk to me!” Chico responded.
“A truck and Augie’s bike coming up behind us.”
“Augie made it?” Chico asked incredulously.
“Superzombies! And they are coming up fast.”
“Fuck.” Chico was frayed to the edge.
    Smitty gave Wild Billy the signal to accelerate, then pressed the pedal further to the floor. In the side mirror, he could see that the bike had pulled ahead of the truck, the driver hunched low to cut wind resistance, preventing Smitty from getting a good glimpse of the creature. Was it Augie? It looked as though it was wearing black leather, but it was still too far away to tell. But that would change.
    Smitty pulled his radio from his belt and called home. When the dispatch officer came on, Smitty relayed the situation as best he could, screaming at the top of his lungs to hear his own voice over the roaring wind, concluding with the fact that superzombies in vehicles were pursuing them.
    “I’m dispatching Bravo One and Three to assist you immediately. Hold tight Tucker.” The radio went silent and Smitty tossed it onto the seat beside him. The wind drowned out most the message, but Smitty got the thrust of it; help was on the way, good luck.
    As they rounded a bend in the interstate near Jamestown, the road ahead was suddenly filled with zombies. They mingled about, looking more confused than usual. The sight of the motorcycle and truck brought them to life, causing them to grow agitated with the anticipation of warm human flesh.
    “Get behind me!” Smitty screamed to Angel at the top of his lungs, but his voice was drowned out by the roaring wind that whipped through the cabin like a minor tornado, making even vision difficult.
     
     
     
    Even though Angel couldn’t hear Smitty’s shout of warning, he knew what he needed to do. He swerved to the far side of the highway and applied his brake, slowing considerably. Smitty’s truck sped past him at 70 mph and Angel punched it, falling in line right behind the trailer, letting the drag add to his acceleration.
     
    Smitty gripped the wheel tightly, keeping to the centerline of the highway. “Hold on Chico!” he hollered over his shoulder just as the flat nose grill of the truck smashed into the first zombie, sending it flying back twenty feet where it skidded and tumbled to a shattered halt. Out of the corner of his eye Smitty caught movement, and looking to the side of the road he saw a superzombie step out from behind an abandoned car. Its fatigues were tattered, and its lower jaw was missing. In its hands it held an AK-47, which it began firing. Bullets crashed through the open cab of the truck, peppering the empty passengers seat and door, one grazed the back of Smitty’s neck and another winged the top of his left shoulder, causing his to lose momentarily control of the truck, careening it to the side of the road. In the back, Chico was tossed against one side of the trailer with a bone jarring crash before being dumped to the floor stunned.
     
    Angel saw the truck swerve, and went into offensive driving mode, gunning the engine and weaving through the deadfucks that had been scattered by the trucks passing. Up ahead, he saw the superzombie standing in the road in front of an abandoned sedan. Wild Billy saw it too. With a scream of rage, Wild Billy opened up with his AK on full automatic, spraying short controlled bursts. Wild Billy was as good a shot with the assault rifle as one could ask for, and his bullets chewed into the deadfucks upper chest, throat and head. It didn’t drop the superzombie but it staggered back, throwing its aim away from the cab of Smitty’s truck. Then Angel gunned the engine again and they shot past the sedan and the superzombie.
     
    Smitty gritted his teeth against the pain and wrestled the truck back